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AN ORATION 



THE LIFE AND CHARACTER 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 



DELIVEREI> BEFORE THE 



FRANKLINIAN SOCIETY 



OF 



WILLIAM AND MARY COLLEGE, 



On the 11 th January, 1840o 



BY JOHN TYLER, Je. 



NORFOLK, Va. 

PRINTED BY W. C. SHIELDS. 



AN ORATION 



ON 



THE LIFE AND CHARACTER 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 



DELIVERED BEFORE THE 



Franklinian society 



ot 



WILLIAM AND MARY COLLEGE, 



On the 17 Ih January^ 1840; 






BY JO^^f TYLER, Jk. 




J 

NORFOLK, Ya. 

PRINTED BY W. C. SHIELDS, 
1.S40. 



William and Mary, January 20th, 1840. 
Dear Sir: 

In compliance with the request of the Frank" 
linian Society, tve solicit, for publication, a copy of 
your Oration, delivered on the \lth instant. We 
have only to assure you, that it is with mingled feel- 
ings of approbation for your ejfort, and of respect 
and friendship for yourself that ive perfoi'77i this 
duty. Very resjiecifully , 

Jos. M. Carrington, 
Benj. T. Owen, 
John R. Wright, 
Benj. F. Garrett, \ 

Wm. E. Blankingship, 
Geo. Wm. Richardson. 
To Mr. John Tyler, Jr. 



HI 



Williamsburg, January 23d, 1840. 
Gentlemen: 

/ herewith comply loith the request contained 
in yonr^s of the 20th, and send you a copy of the 
•dddress, delivered by me, before the Franklinian 
Society, on the llth instant. Its faults, I am con- 
Jident, are many ; but hope that the pressure of my 
College duties, together ivith an indisposition, tvhich 
unfitted me for labour during several weeks after 
7ny election, will form, in soine measure, an excuse 
for them. 

With the warmest wishes for the prosperity of 
your institution, and the highest respect for your- 
selves, individually, I am, gentlemen, your-s, ^^c. 

JOHN TYLER, Jr. 
To Messrs. Carrington, Wright 

and others, of the Committee. 



ORATION. 



Mr. President, and Fellow Members 

of the FranJclinian Society : 

It is ever instructive to dwell upon the past. — From 
its full bosom the Statesman draws his deep lessons of 
wisdom, and the Philosopher those truths which he 
exhibits to the Avorld, and leaves as a rich legacy to 
mankind. Events which transpire in our own day, are, 
for the most part, presented to us in the false colours 
which prejudice and passion throw around them ; 
but, when viewed far down the long vista of ages, 
surrounded by time's mystic halo, they appear sub- 
limely beautiful, and stand as bright beacons to all 
future generations. The Patriot searches only among 
the spirits of the mighty dead for examples worthy of 
imitation. The solemn voice of the grave is the only 
voice which stays vain man in his rash and impetuous 
career. 

We have assembled for the purpose of indulging in 
this instructive contemplation. As a band of brothers, 
joined in the noble cause of learning and philanthro- 
py, we come to pay our annual tribute of respect to 
the deeds of other times, and to him who was the fa- 
vourite disciple of liberty and the darling child of phi- 
losophy. Here, in this place consecrated to science, 
and around which memory loves to linger, we meet 
to speak of Franklin — to dwell upon his virtues, and 
testify to his acts. 



We are as yet young, but our school-boy hours are 
vanishing rapidly away, and all of us Avill, shortly, 
stand upon the shore of the boisterous ocean of busi/ 
life. Our feelings are keen-edged and thrilling; our 
hopes are lofty and unbounded, and our aspirations 
would lead us to scan the wide world : but our habits 
are unsettled, our characters unformed, and our reso- 
lution untried. We are destitute of chart and com- 
pass, tiiose true and fixed principles which can only 
guide us, safely, over its trackless and almost illimita- 
ble expanse. — Would you provide yourselves with 
these ? learn to imitate the example of Franklin, for 
his principles were as lasting as the mountains. They 
consisted of an untiring industry, an unceasing perse- 
verance, and an integrity which could not be shaken. 

The biographer, it but too often happens, overlooks, 
what he considers, the minor traits in the character of 
those whose lives he would portray ; so it is wdth us, 
gentlemen, when we meet to speak of Franklin. En- 
chanted by those brilliant acts of his more advanced 
years, which won for him the admiration of all civili- 
zed nations, we forget the days of his youth, and the 
gradual steps Avhich led to his unparalleled success. 
We are always disposed to view him clothed in his 
robes of lightning, whilst the rolling thunders roar a- 
bove his head, proclaiming his praise to men and an- 
gels. There seems to be a disposition with all men 
to pass over, without a thouglit, the humble scenes of 
life. The gentle beauties of the lowly vale, with most 
of us, are lost in the gorgeously dyed sunset, or in 
night's glittering vault. 15ut, to the child of nature, 
he vv'ho is the true Philosopher, there is a loveliness 



in the tender grass, and the newly blown tlowers, and 
the young and delicate plants, far more enticing than 
the splendours of the flaming empyrean. What period 
of existence, forms a more pleasing study to tlie mo- 
ralist, than that of our youth? What can there be more 
interesting than the gradual budding forth of the 
powers of mind. 

It becomes me, then, gentlemen, to speak of Frank- 
lin's early life — To begin with him when, thrown upon 
the world, he stood an untutored boy, poor and friend- 
less: to view him braving the storms of adversit]^! 
with youthful form erect, and thoughtful brow: to 
trace the development of his character, and to pre- 
sent him to you, by his silent lamp, at dark midnight's 
hour, holding solitary communion with nature and 
nature's God, and acquiring those principles, and gath- 
ering in that knowledge which raised him from his 
low condition, from his poverty, and his ignorance, 
to the highest and proudest seat " among the elders of 
the land." 

In the performance of this important portion of my 
task, I have none of those '* wonder-stirring events, 
which act upon the imagination, or those romantic in- 
cidents, over which the fancy loves to luxuriate, to 
offer to your admn-ation, A strict application to 
his business, a conduct of spotless purity, and a strong 
desire to be useful in his day and generation, consti- 
tute the traits of his early life. Placed, as an appren- 
tice in a printing ofiice, under the sway of a tyrannical 
master, one, I regret to say, allied to him in blood a?' 
a brother, without one word of encouragement, or a 
single hope, save what consoling anticipation dret^ 



8 

from the fuf lire ; silently and assiduously, he performed 
liis daily avocations. Still each declining sun brought 
with it a deep lesson of experience, and each succes- 
sive night impressed upon his reflecting mind a more 
solid 'thought, and a more lasting principle. Though 
young, he was so fully impressed with the importance 
of the passing moment, that the short time allowed 
him for relaxation, was, invariably, devoted to the la- 
bour of making himself intimately acquainted with 
the chaste and beautiful style of Addison, the severe 
reasoning of Locke, or the sublime character of Socra- 
tes. In this we see a display of those elevated senti- 
ments which he received from nature ; and, in the facts 
to which I have alluded, may be found the cause of 
that energy and firmness, which enabled him to leave 
the home of his childhood, for the new and perilous 
scenes of an untried land, as well as that uncompro- 
mising hostility which he, ever afterwards, evinced 
towards tyranny and despotism. 

In 1723, at the age of seventeen, he reached Phila- 
delphia, with but a single dollar hi his pocket, which 
constituted the whole of his worldly possessions. Nor 
was there one among the gay crowd which swept by 
him, who cast upon him a cheering glance — so poor^ 
and destitute of friends and patrons was he. Thus do 
those in allluencc most commonly pass the needy. 
Poverty is regarded by them as a fault, and not a mis^ 
fortune. They forget it is never dishonorable, save 
when the elfect or companion of idleness, intempe- 
rance, sloth, or folly ; and that it is often associated 
whhall the virtues. Let those who arc ashamed of 
beiui? poor hi the vanities of the world, remember the. 



words of him who was called the just — "It better be- 
<}omes Aristides to glory in his poverty, than Callias 
in his riches." This reception might have been with- 
ering to one made of less stern stuif than Franklin ; 
but with him, it constituted a new incentive to exer- 
tion. His immortal spirit was not to be subdued by 
the neglect of the wealthy and the falsely proud — He 
had too much force of character to sink into a pusillan- 
imous dejection. In a short time we find him, as an 
assistant, in Kiemer's olRce ; by the help of that know- 
ledge which he had snatclied from hoars generally 
devoted to debasing lethargy, and, by the most untir- 
ing application to his employment, vrinning the atten- 
tion of that very public which had so lately treated 
him with contempt. 

But, gentlemen, the age of inexperience seldom pass- 
es without its bitter lessons — it did not leave, even 
Franklin, unscathed, though possessed of a wisdom far 
beyond his years. Practised upon by one, old in fraud 
and deception, he is induced to desert the humble 
means by which he gained his simple livelihood, and 
is suddenly transported into the heart of that mil- 
hon-peopled mart of Europe — London, the equal 
home of pomp, and splendour, and glory, and of rags 
and wretchedness; the mighty place, where "Power 
and Fame and woman's careless love are but toys of 
an hour :" the cold and dark cemetery of the feehngs 
and the affections. Although he was the child of ad- 
versity, yet he had, so far, avoided those stunning break- 
ers which lie in the sea of misfortune. But he now 
looked forth upon a scene full of danger and of horror. 
He looked upon the Maelstrom of life's boundless 



10 

ocean, wliose dread jaws contained the wrecks of ite* 
numbered ages. The riclily carved Corinthian pillar^ 
and the fragments of the stately Gothic pile — the em- 
bellished portico, and the squallid hovel — silver, and 
gold, and pearl, with the plain tortoise or lustreless 
horn — the lordling with his splendid mantle, and the 
beggar whh his tattered robes — all had become tlie 
prey of that engulphing oblivion, which seemed now 
ready to enshroud him and all his hopes. But what 
place, circumstance, or power can imprison the soul 
when striving to ascend? what limks can be prescribed 
to its action ? or what fetters can bind its Godlike pro- 
portions ? He cast the all comprehending eye of ge- 
Mius around hira, and, as if by magic, the scene was 
divested of its terrors, and stood clothed in colours 
v/hich caused thrills of pleasure to chase each other 
through his frame. A cliange comes over the spirit of 
his dream, and he stands within a spacious theatre, and 
sees upon its broad stage a full display of every pas^ 
sion and principle, of every virtue and vice, whicli hu- 
man nature is heir to. The many leaved volume of man 
Hes open before him,as welhas that book on whose pages 
are inscribed the knowledge of the world. The sight 
created within his breast, new hope — instilled fresh 
animation into his heart, and gave an impulse to his 
mind, which would not, could not be controlled. 

Up to this time he had regarded the press as a mere 
labour-saving machine, by which the strength of his 
hands and fingers could be hicreased, and resorted ta 
it not through choice, but necessity. Now, in this 
great metropolis, where food for the sight may be found 
m every dircction,hc was permitted to see far deepnr in- 



11 

to its mysteries — He saw in it the lever of Revolution; 
ihe means whereby his own giant country, could be 
aroused to action ; the Dethroner of kings, and the 
Ruler of empires ; and he applied himself, incessantly, 
"from the rismg of the sun even unto the going down of 
the same," towards perfecting his skill in its manage- 
ment. The vain and conceited nurselings of aristo- 
cracy passed him by, haughtily and scornfully, but he 
heeded them not ; conscious of an honest heart, the 
smile of satisfaction played around his lips. He beheld 
in the simple instrument which furnished him, at this 
moment, with his daily sustenance, a power whose 
mighty arm would crush the false idols of European 
customs and Asiatic superstition. 

It is, gentlemen, always a pleasant sight to witness 
the infantile struggles of genius. Behold the young 
aspirant after fame — the noble student with his pale 
and manly brow and soul-lit eye, in his search for im- 
mortality ! In his solitary walks, in the sweet quiet 
of evening, or, in his lonely cell during the gloomy si- 
lence of night, he contemplates the wisdom and works 
of his God, or keeps an unslumberiug watch over the 
lettered page of science. He sees, in the smallest fibre 
of the thinnest leaf which ^^ puts forth in the morning 
and perishes e'er noon" — in each flower which blooms 
upon the way side — and in each tree which flourishes — 
as well as in the earth — the ocean— and the stars — a 
necessary part of the great system of the universe, 
He drinks deep tiie inspiring cup of Philosophy, and 
hears in the hum of each insect — in the carrol of each 
bird — the low moanings of the winds — the deaf'ning 
ioar of the teiPxpest and the loud crash of the thunder^ 



12 

a strain of music sweeter by far than any, that" ever yet 
was raised on pipe, or lute, or sliell. He gathers, from 
the fields of nature, rich stores of wisdom, and aspires 
to be great. He throws aside envy, that noxious feeling, 
and rivalry constitutes with him but a new incentive 
to exertion. It leads him to make liimself more than 
others, — not others less han they are. If Ids rival 
should *' leap up, and pluck bright honor from the 
pale-faced moon," he would scale the heavens, and 
^•number every star," without even attempting to 
tarnish the bright fame which that rival had acquired. 
Such was Franklin at this period of his life. Day 
after day came and went, yet brought no end to his 
task. Niglit followed night, yet his wearied hnibs 
found no rest : imblest by beauty's smile, unpitied by 
beauty's tear, friendless and patronless, he was, never- 
theless, indefatigable in his exertions. His taper, that 
melancholy emblem of thought, shining through his 
garret window, and penetrating the muiky veil of 
darkness, often startled the robber and incendiary in 
their piratical course, and as often paled its light befora 
the morning beam. Still an unconquerable desire to 
excel, and to do good, kept bright the glow upon his 
cheek, and the fire in liis eye. The burnished goal of 
fame lay glittering before him, and he resolved to win 
the high prize, or perish, gloriously, in the attempt. 
In reviewing this portion of his history he has remark-, 
ed, with a generous pride, that "he passed through the? 
storms of youth, notwithstanding his exposure to evil 
company, with an unsullied reputation — and,imder the 
most eminent necessities, had never used any cringing 
submisions, or resorted to any meanness of expedient 



13 

for a subsistence.'^ His example thus far, is an inva* 
luable legacy to us, gentlemen, and to our country. 

We have now to view him in a new light. In Oc- 
tober 1726,again he reaches Pliladelphia ; but the boy 
has grown into the man, and, unlike the inexperienced 
wanderer of a former day, he comes with determina- 
tion formed and habits settled — he comes with the 
hoarded wisdom of the past — ^lie comes armed with 
the weapons of reason and knowledge, to do battle 
in the cause of sufiering humanity, to war against 
evils and prejudices, and to benefit mankind. The pe- 
riod ofhis usefulness begms. Now were those who so 
httle befriended him, when helplcsness required most 
help, to experience the result of liis labours ; and he 
himself to receive the just meed of virtue. From this 
time we see the star of his destiny in the ascendant, 
rising rapidly towards the zenith, and betokening a 
glorious setting. The obstructions Avhich beset his 
path are removed, and he advances with a firm and 
unfaltering step in the progress of fortune and prefer- 
ment, lie laid the foundation of the present Philo^ 
sophical Society, the first of the kmd established on 
this continent, and through its instrumentality, created 
a taste for letters, and a spirit of emulation in the com- 
munity. He published his celebrated almanac, contain- 
ing the sayings of "Poor Richard," or the Avise max- 
ims of every age and clime; a work which contributed 
so much towards the promotion of industry, morality 
and economy, that it was republished and distributed 
by order of their respective governments, through 
England and France, and which, for its sound reason 
and unsophisticated good sense,continues to be remeni- 



li 

bcred with no little pleasure in those countries as well 
as our own. He edited a paper apart from politics, de- 
voted to history, science and literature ; Avhich together 
witli his other efforts, led to the establishment of tlie Ci- 
ty Police and the Public Library; and the erection of the 
Philadelphia Hospital and the Pennsylvania College. 
So comprehensive was his mind, and so unwearied 
was he in his efforts to reform abuse, correct error, and 
remove evils, that the most common comforts and con- 
veniences of life received a kindly touch from his hand. 
PiS impress w^as seen in the decent street and the shady 
{side walk ; and was acknowledged by the happy fami- 
ly when gathered around the pleasant hearth, or the 
Avarm stove. It is felt, even at this day, in the general 
expansion of his works and operation of his principles: 
but revelling in the blessing, we forget him who blessed. 
To mention all the acts which he performed at this 
lime, would be to enter into a narration too tedious for 
the occasion ; yet each and every one of them is most 
worthy your consideration. I cannot, though, fail to 
call your attention to one trait of character which he 
now exhibited — it is needless for me to say, one wor- 
thy your imitation. We have seen that lie hovered, 
like a guardian angel, over the City of Philadelphia, 
and, always, kept a watchful eye upon the province of 
Pennsylvania. We have seen him doing every thing 
that was done — increasing tlie virtues, purifying the 
morals, nursing the sick, clothing the poor, and feeding 
the hungry of the town — and saving the countiy, the 
Avidow and the orphan — the gentle mother, and the 
innocent child, from the blood-stained hatchet of the 
inhuman and lawless savage. Still such was his modr 



15 

esty and prudence that it appeared when he was 
most active, as if he was not acting. 

In the language of iflschilus concerning Amphia- 
raus, it may justly be said, 

To be and not to seem, was this man'? maxim: 
His mind reposed \i\)on its proper wisdom. 
And wanted no other praise. 

At our age — the age of youthj when the impulses 
are all strong, and the desires all ardent ; when the 
full current of our feelings, is wont to bear down our 
judgment ; when ambitious thoughts mount upwards, 
like young eagles, we are apt to overleap the bounds 
of prudence. We throw ourselves too far forv/ard, we 
are not only anxious to be the first, but to appear the 
first. This, when viewed unconnected with its con- 
sequences, may be laudable. But, gentlemen, if you 
will permit one allied to you by an association of sev- 
eral years, thus to address you — remember that others 
are constituted, like yourselves, with desires, and feel- 
ings, and impulses, equally strong and sensitive. To 
win the prize, then, should be sufficient honor for you. 
Be like Franklin — Let that spirit Avhich teaches you to 
spurn inglorious ease, animate your bosoms. Let 
your thirst for meritorious action burn on, unquencha- 
bly, the same. Triumph in the glorious cause of phi- 
lanthropy, if you can, but never exult in your triumphs; 
for by so exulting, you plant enmity between yourself 
and others. Lay aside passion, for, by its withering 
touch, your brightest prospects will fade. Discard en- 
vy, for it fails not to corrupt the piuity of the soul. 
Frown down malice, for peace and good-wiU ensure 
a high station among men. Do whatever you under- 
take, yet so frame yoiu^ actions, as to seem not to do. 



16 

At the age of tliirty-fiv^e, Franklin had won for him- 
self sufficient honor for any one man. He had ac- 
quired the reputation of a reformer and benefactor of 
his species. He had done enough to have entitled 
him to the praise of his country, while living, and, after 
death, to a grateful remembrance among the children 
of men. But now, in the prime of life. With his facul- 
ties fully awake, visions of far deeper glory attended his 
thoughts. He had, already, subdued the evil propensi- 
ties of his fellow beings. But now was decreed to him, 
of all others, a victory destined to live on earth after the 
pyramids shall have tumbled into ruins. To him alone 
was given the immortal conquest of the bright spirit 
of the Aurora Borealis, and the thundering minister 
of the storm-king. From early childhood to young 
manhood, we are told, he loved the heaving swell of the 
ocean — the vivid sports of the playful liglitning — the 
gentle tale of the whispering winds, and the soft tone 
of the starry sisterhood. Companionless, these formed 
his associates. They were to him like the breath and 
the voice of a bright-eyed one — a blessing unspeakable. 
May it not have been an erratic ray of the future il- 
himining his mind — a presentiment of approaching 
fame, wliich led himtlius to fondle Old Ocean\s mane, 
and, with the elements and tlie ^' quick spirit of the u- 
niverse, to hold his dialogues?'' 

Tlie subject of nature and nature's laws, formed a 
study most congenial to the disposition, and best a- 
dapted to the great intellect of Franklin. Newton, 
that arch pliilosopher, having laid bare the mechan- 
ism of the world, had just left the arena of his splen- 
did feats, to mhigle with the beings of a higher clime.— 



17 

In vain had men of science attempted to follow up 
his sublime discoveries. Each sphere was seen to 
move on, noiselessly, tlirough the immeasurable fields 
of space. The true motion and shape of Earth had 
been explained, but still its internal structure seemed, 
a heterogeneous mass, heaped together without sys- 
tem or harmony. Franklin touched it with his mag- 
ic wand, and order out of chaos sprung. Other beau- 
ties than those of the fair blossoms of spring, the rich 
fruits of autumn, the flowing rivulet, the winding- 
dale, and the hoary mountain disclosed themselves to 
man's enraptured gaze. The penetrating stream of e- 
lectric fire became instilled into those sterile and un- 
known substances, which met the eye wherever it was 
turned, and aroused their dormant energies. The 
soul of the hard and lifeless rock and dingy ore, and 
the bright spirit of the diamond, were awakened from 
their death-like sleep of ages, burst their sepulchral 
cerements and leaped forth to join the radiant band 
of aerial essences. The elements of matter Avere pu- 
rified of their dross ; and the rich storehouses of na- 
ture, filled with silver and gold uncounted, 

"Those precious things for which men sell their souls," 

were opened. All things wore a different aspect, 
and nations stood awe-struck and dazzled by his 
course of brilliant discovery. From these Western 
shores of the Atlantic, over the ocean, through Eng- 
land, Germany, France and Italy — that sunny land ! 
to the black borders of the Baltic, his name was borne 
upon the wings of the wind, and echoed back in the 
voice of the loud-speaking thunder. Those proud 
lords, who passed him by with scorn, when a boy in 

3 



18 

tlie streets of London, together with the conceited 
princes of Europe, now tiocked to witness the wonders 
of his experiments, and knelt down and did homage, as 
to a mighty conqueror. 

But, gentlemen, think not that Franklin won this 
extensive renown, without labour. The laurelled 
Avrealh Avas even with him contested ; nor did he win 
it, except by the most arduous struggle. Victory in 
science has never yet been, gratuitously, bestowed on 
any man. Truth wears no enchanting garb ; she gen- 
erally comes to us so roughly clad, that we are dis- 
posed to repel her, and embrace, in preference, her 
smiling and gaily dressed antagonist— Deception. He 
who binds his heart to truth must " steel it" against 
the world: those errors and prejudices, which time and 
the passions of men have established and sanctioned, 
yield to no ordinary exertion. Your opinions, before 
they are uttered, "must fn-st be stretched upon the rack 
of experiment and passed through the intense heats 
of the laboratory ;" and even then you nmst practice 
patience under the abuse, and firmness under the op- 
position of those would-be men of letters and scien- 
tific critics, who are apt to flock around universities 
and scats of learniiig, like the crow in the fable, for 
the purpose of robing and cbessing themselves up in 
those gaudy feathers— the tlimsy opinions of others — ■ 
who are content to liobble on in the old worn-out paths 
of falsehood— and whose genius never attempts the 
dilFicult ascent of true knowledge ; not because it does 
not desn-e the performance, but because it was made 
only to grovel in the dust and mire of folly and pas- 
sion. These were the men who spurned Columbus — 



19 

these were they who ccinied the Father of Science, 
the venerable Gahlco, through the tortures of the In- 
quisition : these were the ignorant professors who 
scoffed at the immortal Newton, though they met and 
feasted with him at the same board — and these were 
the pretenders in the Royal Society — I hope they are 
no longer so — who lauglied at the theories of the great 
sage Franklin. Fortunately for mankind, he had 
seen too much of the world, now, to be wavered in 
his course by idle difficulties. Steadily lie pursued his 
experiments, slowly his investigation, and, finally, his 
brightest hopes were realized. His propositions were 
based upon the immutable laws of nature, and they will 
stand, when those sycophants in learning, together 
with their shadowy works, shall have been swept in 
the deep gulph of oblivion — ■ 

" When their very names shall be forctotten." 

We have now, gentlemen, arrived at the fourth and 
most interesting era in Frankhn's life. As Hallam 
has remarked, in his Middle Ages, concerning his his- 
tory of that dark and eventful period, so may we 
with regard to our review of Franklin's career. " Yv"e 
began m darkness and calamity, yet as we advanced, 
the shadows grew fainter and fainter ; then the fresh- 
ness of morning breathed upon us, and now the dim 
twilight has reddened into the bright lustre of day." 
We have seen him as a boy, through the assistance of 
untiring energy and unceasing perseverance, tlirovvqng 
aside the fetters of ignorance, and bursting through 
the bonds of poverty : we have viewed him, as the 
true patriot, attending to the interests of his country, 
and promoting the happiness of his fellow citizens : 



20 

and we have beheld him as the Philosopher, making 
discoveries in science which men had never dreamed 
of. We have now to regard him as the Statesman, the 
Defender of our rights — and the watchful Sentinel of 
the Revolution. Already has he been thrice victorious — . 
first, ov^er himself — secondly, he subdued the passions 
and errors of others — and thirdly, the mysterious a- 
gent of the tempest, yielded to him submissively. He 
is now to appear as one of the atchievers of the liber- 
ties of mankind ; for the voice of the Declaration of 
our Independence will be — (it has been spoken ni 
prophetic language,) — "to some sooner, to others later, 
but, finally, to all — the signal of arousing men to burst 
the chains under which monkish ignorance and su- 
perstition persuaded them to bind themselves, and to 
assume the blessings and security of self government." 
I will not, though, weary your patience by dwelling 
too long upon this eventful portion of his life. It will 
answer my purpose to refer you to those acts in which 
he shone most conspicuous. In 1757 he was selected 
embassador to Great Britain, by the General Assembly 
of Pennsylvania, for the purpose of quieting the dis- 
pute between that body and the proprietors, which had 
now arisen to such an alarming height, as to threaten 
civil war. While at the court of St. James, he not on- 
ly disabused the public mind of the malignant asper- 
sions thrown out against his constituents, but urged, 
with irresistible reasoning, the importance of the con- 
quest of Canada from the French — and, finally, by 
furnishing the ministry with statistical accounts of A- 
nierica, before unknown to the Europeans, became 
nistruinental in the celebrated attack upon Quebec, by 



21 

the brave general Wolfe, which freed ns from the mur- 
derers of Schenectady. 

In 1764 the seeds of discontent sown, during the 
ten years preceding, between the mother country and 
her trans-atlantic provinces, began to spring up, like 
noxious plants, poisoning our political atmosphere. 
The Stamp Act, that tyrannical expedient of taxation, 
resorted to by tliose who styled themselves our protec- 
tors, had been sanctioned by Parliament ; and other 
miserable measures were in contemplation, which 
threatened to undermine our social system, as well as 
to destroy our liberties. The colonies, for a moment, 
stood paralyzed — but the pen of Franklin and the 
voice of Henry soon told a tale to our oppressors, caus- 
ing tyranny to tremble in its high places. Again " the 
man, who compassed earth and sky to accomplish his 
benevolent objects," is called upon by his country to 
vindicate her rights before the ruling power. Through- 
out this arduous struggle, unawed by the threats of an 
angry ministry and unallured by the tempting offers of 
Grafton and North, he remained true to his faith. In 
1766 he opposed an undaunted front to the proceedings 
of the House of Commons, astounded his enemies, and 
baffled their attempts to seduce him from the ways of 
truth and justice. He exhausted every argument in 
favour of reconciliation, and attempted in every way 
to ward otf the storm which his practised eye saw 
was, with terrific aspect, approaching. He remonstra- 
ted and petitioned ; — but finding that the privy coun- 
cil of tlie king only treated his prayers with contempt, 
and that his enemies, led on by Wedderbonne, (whose 
name, lilie that of Erostratus, is destined to live in his- 



22 

tory to be the scorn of every honest man,) sought eve- 
ry opportunity to insult his fceUngs, he bade an af- 
fectionate farewell to tiiose intimate friends, who sus- 
tained him in all his trials, and to that paragon of ex- 
cellence, Lord Cliatham, and returned to his native 
land, v\rith the solemn determination to live free, or to 
die in the attempt of wresting the sceptre from the 
hands of despotism. 

Immediately after his arrival he was chosen a 
member of the General Congress of the colonies,a body, 
■which, in the language of the eloquent nobleman to 
whom I have just alluded, "for solidity of reasoning, 
force of sagacity, and wisdom of conclusion, under 
such a complication of difficult circumstances, stood 
incomparable : the organ of three millions of people, 
whose hearts were animated by that glorious spirit of 
Avhiggism which taught them to prefer poverty with 
hberty,to gilded chains and sordid affluence." Frank- 
lin constituted one of its principal ornaments. He for- 
got his desire for reconciliation and cast defiance in 
the face of our "good lords and masters." He contri- 
buted his endeavours, with the utmost zeal, towards 
obtaining that instrument which set forth our rights and 
grievances; which declared the freedom of mankind 
and bore upon its face the impress of innnortality. In 
vain did Howe talk of peace and endurance ; the point 
of endurance had been past. The prmieval woods of 
America still stood, and in their dark depths, more im- 
})enetrable than the mountain fastnesses of the ancient 
Welsh, our ancestors, who inherited all the virtues and 
the tried valour of the Saxon — who had been tempest- 
test upon the rough billows of life, and raised and har- 



23 

dened in scenes of peril, resolved to carry their liber^ 
ties, and defend them until their last rifle ball had car- 
ried its message of death to the heart of the sacrile^ 
gioiis invader. 

You are all acquainted with the circumstances of 
the struggle which here followed. Let it tlien suiiice 
for me to say, that in a short time our affairs wore an 
alarming aspect. The defeats at Long Island, New- 
York, Fort Washington ; the disaster of Greene and the 
retreat of Washington himself, called aloud for new 
aid from our friends, and fresh ardour on the part of 
ourselves. Li this emergency all eyes again were 
turned to Franklin. He had now reached the evening 
of life. His hairs were silvered with age — seventy 
one winters had shed their frosts upon him. But, gen- 
tlemen, the sold of genius is ever young. The body 
may be bent down with the burthen of years, the cheek 
may lose its bloom and the eye its fire, yet that hea- 
venly spark within the mouldering frame is ever bright 
and active.* This great man hesitated not to die in the 
service of his country — He accepted with alacrity the 
offered mission to France. The high reputation which 
he had acquired as a Philosopher, had gone before 
him. The first men of the nation received him witJi 
open arms. They felt proud to have one so eminent 
in science and letters among them. Daring his long 
residence in Elngland he had been treated v/ith that 
rancour and malice which power usually produces in 
ignoble minds. He had now the satisfaction of seeing 
his merits recognised— all the embassadors of Europe 



*Tiic minds of men of lotters, endure to tlie last gasp — 
To tliein there is but seldom a second childhood. 



24 

paid him the utmost deference. Indeed, as JefTerson 
has remarked, "more respect and veneration attached 
to his character than to that of any other man, foreign- 
er or native. '^ Such was the estimation in which he 
v/as held, that we have fair reasons for believing that 
his personal influence had more effect in concluding 
the treaty of alliance with the Court of Versailles than 
any other consideration whatever. 

Why need I speak of the consequences of this treaty. 
The happy land around you tells, in language louder 
and stronger than human tongue can utter, the noble 
efforts of LaFayette and the Count de Grasse. 

"That land is like an eagle, whoi-e young gaze 
Feeds on the noontide beam ; whose golden plume 
Floats moveless on the storm, and in the blaze 
Of sunrise gleams, when Earth is wrapt in gloom. 

Myriads assemble there 

Whom the proud lords of man, in rage or fear. 

Drive from their wasted homes. 

An epitaph of glory, for the tomb 



Of murder'd Europe, may thy fame be made, 
America." 

While Franklin remained in France, it was his cus- 
tom to attend the Royal Academy of Sciences ; for it 
seems as if liis mind was ever engaged, during his lei- 
sure hours, in philosophical reflections. Here occur- 
red his celebrated meeting with the Avonderful Vol- 
taire. This remarkable man we are told, like himself, 
had approached the last scene of a long and eventful 
life, lie had just returned from his protracted and 
memorable residence upon the lakes of Italy, to his na- 
tive country, and was received, every where, with the 
greatest profusion of honors. Each had heard of the o- 
ther — each had exercised a powerful influence over the 
times in which he lived — each was venerable in age — 



25 

each shone the "day star" of a hemisphere. A meet- 
ing between such individuals, so renowned for trans- 
cendant genius, could not have been otherwise than 
interesting. Their presence was hailed with shouts 
of admiration ; and when they embraced, as old friends 
in the cause of knowledge, after a long separation, 
tears of joy were shed by the multitude, and its loud 
voice was heard to say, "It is Solon in the arms of So- 
phocles.'^ 

He now, once again, returned to the bosom of his 
family and the home of his childhood ; but was in-* 
stantly called upon to fill the Presidential Chair of the 
Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, and, immediately 
afterwards, in 1787, to assist in framing the Constitu- 
tion of these United States. This done, having real- 
ized his brightest visions, having reached the ultima 
thule of his hopes, he begged leave to pass his few 
remaining years in the blissful quiet of private life 5 
there, in his own language, to enjoy "peace, and plen- 
ty, and liberty, without which man loses half his val- 
ue," and for which, we may add, he had periled his 
all — his fortune — his body — his life and his soul. 

We must now conclude this great man's life. In 
the simple and short sketch we have drawn of him, 
(for circumstances will not permit us to dwell longer 
upon his acts and his merits, though many remain un~ 
mentioned,) we may find those cardinal virtues which 
should govern us in our voyage through this world 
patience in his afflictions ; firmness in his pur- 
suits ; perseverance in his employments ; economy 
in his living ; and the strictest integrity in every 
thing that he did. If you would be ^vealthy, learn to 

4 



26 

imitntc liim — Tf you-\vonldbe ifscffd^lenrn to imitate 
liiin — if you would be virfuous, learn to imitate hi^n — 
and, //you would be numbered among the loise and 
great ^w(\ good, learn to imitate him. 

On the 17th day of April 1790, in the 84th year of 
his age, "the sage whose name is recorded with equal 
lionours inth.e history of government and that of sci- 
ence ; the genius who delivered America, and pour- 
ed such Hoods of hght upon Europe, returned to the 
bosom of his God," and the civilized world loent in 
mourning for its loss. In the north-west corner of 
Christ's Church 3^ard, a plain marble slab covers the 
remains of the '^immortal Frank lin.^^ 

Fellow members of the Franklinian Society, before 
wo pnrt, listen to the warning words which he utter- 
ed a short time before his death. "I am apprehen- 
sive,'' he said, ^'perhaps too apprehensive, that our pla- 
ces of honour will become phices of profit and corrup- 
tion, to be gained by faction, tmnult and contention, 
and that our government itself will degenerate in- 
to a monnrchy." Tliey seem to say to us — Beivare ! 
Are not faction and tumult abroad in our land ? — 
luive not our high posts of honour become places 
of profit and corruption ? Is not the fatal saying 
tl'Ht Repubhes tannot last, about to be confirm- 
•od by our government ? Be not deceived — suffer 
not yonrselvos 'to be lulled by tlie syren voice of pow- 
-or, into the belief that notliingis "roti<^n in Denmark." 
The storm of civil strite and misrule has been gather- 
ing in your political firmameul: for tlie last ten years : 
it begins to appear .dark anrl portentous: Henry's 
voice is joined to that of Fmnkiiii: both have spo- 



21 

ken in language which sounds Uke prophecy — My 
prayer is that it may prove otherwise. But if it should 
be so — if in our day the clouds of havock and confu- 
sion should burst— if profit should assume the place 
of honour — if corruption should eat away our purity — 
if faction should pull down the fairest fabrick of gov- 
ernmental architecture that ever was erected, bmwing 
beneath its ruins, truth and justice, prosperity and hap- 
piness, — may I not hope, that I now look upon some 
mighty genius just springing into existence, which 
like Franklin's in the days of '76, will then rise supe- 
rior to the spirit of the storm, and re-erect the prostrate 
altars of our political worship ! 



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